


And Then He Falls, as I do

by Cooked_Rat



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Greece, M/M, Murder Husbands, Murder Tableaus, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-19
Updated: 2020-06-19
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:15:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24779752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cooked_Rat/pseuds/Cooked_Rat
Summary: Looking down at his hands, he could still see flaky blood under his fingernails. Sometimes he wonders if the bloody sea out past their expensive villa could swallow him whole. Rush in through the many windows and doors, in his ears and up his nose, through the long aching corridors of his mind and merge with his own stream. Maybe it already has.~~~A few years after their battle with The Dragon, Will and Hannibal are found in Greece, purging the world of the people they considered rude. Will reminisces on past events as they deal with an unexpected visitor. Murder ensues.
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 2
Kudos: 42





	And Then He Falls, as I do

**Author's Note:**

> The title is from Shakespeare, I'm sorry... or am I...
> 
> This was based off of a literal dream I had and it's been sitting in the back of my mind for a solid month lmaooo thank you brain :)

The night was black and slow moving. There was an uneasy vibration in the air, too quiet and calm for the acts just committed. All the lights were off and their windows were open, letting breezy air into their large home. It was colder than a usual night in Greece this time of year, the positioning of their villa didn’t help either. It sat right on the edge of the Mediterranean Sea, looking out on enchanting blue water. Although, it was nearly impossible to make out the color in the nighttime, the sea unmarred by blaring city lights. It could be a deep red for all Will knows. A sea of blood. It was somehow more comforting, something Will was intimately familiar with. Blood had somehow made it into his most impactful memories, the most important ones relating to Hannibal in an unsurprising way. A scraped knee to which his comforting but not-very-present father would clean up with tap water and antibiotics, a shooting, stabbing, gutting. The death of a daughter. A bone saw to his skull, which he honestly thought solidified his feelings of hatred for Hannibal. 

And yet here he was, looking out at the sea through the openings where windows would be had they been closed. Every chapter of his life had ended with blood. Before Hannibal and After Hannibal. Those were books in which every chapter added another layer of questions before, in recent events, becoming entirely clear. Before Hannibal, the chapters were murky and confused, no one distinct meaning or theme. It was incomplete, something was missing. After Hannibal was an embodiment of art and passion, something new altogether. Maybe Will would consider it to be Hannibal in his purest form, beauty and ugliness were just words incapable of describing who he truly was, how it truly felt. There is no word, sentence, or paragraph to describe Hannibal Lecter in his likeness, he just was. It was simple to understand yet it baffled arguably the strongest minds of their time.

The rustling of plastic broke Will’s train of thought. He looked away from the sea and found Hannibal standing by the first body, assessing the damage. The man’s jaw was broken, opened unnaturally far and possibly even snapped off, hanging on by whatever muscles and ligaments remained. His eyes were wide in terror, the damage done while he was still alive. His throat was cut in a fashion that sparked a memory in Will, although it wasn’t similar enough to dredge up the whirlwind of emotions along with it. Hannibal seemed pleased, looking up from his work with a gratified smile and meeting Will’s eyes. He knew Hannibal had been wanting to do that ever since as they had first met the man who is now slumped over in his own blood. Will honestly couldn’t blame him.

He surveyed the others sat at their table. There were three in total, a man and two women, the blood striking against their fancy attire. One was the man’s wife, and the other was the woman the man was having an affair with, and yet neither of them knew. Actually, they were relatively good friends from what they had garnered. The women weren’t completely innocent, however. The woman on the left liked to gossip quite a lot, she entertained herself by spreading lies and rumors of other people in their wide “sophisticated” circle. Both Hannibal and Will ordained it as unbecoming. Rude. Why make other people’s lives harder if you can’t even get a hold of your own? Will entertained the thought that perhaps she knew her husband was having an affair, “But with who?” she would think. Was that born from a rumor? She likely wanted everyone to feel just as confused as she was. 

Both of her ears had been cut off, although that had happened after she was dead. What was the use of rumors and deceit if you could hardly hear the turmoil you had caused? She had glass in her hair and trails of blood down her smooth skin. Her neck was twisted and her head was limp. Her face was blank, she hadn’t seen it coming.

The lady to her right was a little different. Will would say it was more of a poor choice in friends, possibly a poor choice of relationships in general. She was more soft spoken, just along for the ride, Will supposes. She was a witness to the other’s impudent acts and yet said and thought nothing of it. She was desensitized to a society that acts in such a way that she sees nothing wrong with what they had been doing. 

So, Will Graham took her eyes. Her reactions were a little slower, thanks to the wine they had served, and yet her resistance was limited. Perhaps she had accepted her fate, or maybe she didn’t necessarily care what happened to her. Her chair was tipped over, and her along with it. There was a dark splatter on the floor where her head was, slowly drying. Her eyes were pushed into her skull, leaving behind wide sockets full of blood staring up into the tall ceiling. Will had imagined doing something similar whenever he put himself in the body of Abel Giddeon, fastening up his own person suit to find the truth behind it all. As much as he can feel when in the mind of a killer, nothing could replicate something as intimate as psychically killing someone. 

Looking down at his hands, he could still see flaky blood under his fingernails. Sometimes he wonders if the bloody sea out past their expensive villa could swallow him whole. Rush in through the many windows and doors, in his ears and up his nose, through the long aching corridors of his mind and merge with his own stream. Maybe it already has. 

He hears Hannibal’s expensive shoes clack against the glazed wooden floor. He came to stand right behind the earless lady’s chair, mimicking Will Graham almost twenty minutes prior. “I believe she saw us as a spectacle. Something to tell her friends the next day.” he cocks his head, carefully picking little shards of shattered glass out of her hair. He met Will’s eyes with a questioning look, asking Will’s thoughts on the matter.

“It must have been somewhat intriguing,” He looked down at her plate, she had hardly touched her food. “The new folks in town are a same-sex couple from strickingly different backgrounds.” Will’s eyes trailed to her wine glass, “I wonder what they’re like.” his eyes drifted back up to Hannibal’s. He had a small smile perched on his mouth, pride evident. Pride for what he has created and what Will has become. Maybe there is a little bit of that pride in Will as well, not as hidden as he once thought it was. 

Hannibal closed his eyes and breathed deeply, Will did the same. The tangy scent of copper was heavy as the wind dispersed it around their home and simultaneously carried it out to sea. The smell followed them wherever they went, they found comfort in it and in each other. Will wonders if this is how it was meant to be from the beginning, he wonders why he hadn’t given in sooner. Maybe if he had there would be an extra chair at their table, another mouth to feed. Another person who understood.

“I’m afraid we will need new suits after tonight.”

He opened his eyes and found Hannibal staring, searching his face. Will could never hide things from Hannibal. He found that out long ago. “You do love your suits, Hannibal.”

“I do indeed.” He smiled. Then his eyebrows furrowed the slightest bit, and in the quiet of the night, Will could feel something was off.

Hannibal had known they were being tracked down for a while, and whoever it was was not the most skilled person they had dealt with. As the smell of copper blood had followed them, so had another smell. It was unfamiliar and mildly threatening, as Hannibal had described it. They came to the conclusion that they had been found and were being watched. By the FBI? Maybe so. They were a long way from America. And last he heard, Will Graham and Hannibal Lecter were dead. They had been washed away from the cliff’s edge and the jagged rocks underneath, as the story goes. If that is the case, then why has this person stayed hidden? Will might not have to wait much longer for an answer.

“Come,” Hannibal turned away, stepping over the woman with no eyes, “let’s store them away for now. I have a lovely dish they would be perfect for. But, at the moment, we must let them cool.” his eyes held meaning. Will knew their hunt wasn’t over yet.

The walk to the cellar was familiar, the short grass flattened from repeated comings and goings. It was much the same from their other dinner parties, but the air felt charged this time. The air was waiting for the moment the tides would turn. The sea was pulling back before charging forward once again. It was a cycle they were bound to repeat. 

Moving the bodies took multiple trips. Every time they returned to the bloody scene they left in the dining room, they travelled together. Separation was not an option, it never was. 

The cellar smelled of mold and wet dirt, there were a few wine racks along the sides and a large freezer against the back wall. It was short and came almost to Hannibal’s mid thigh and was relatively long. Both of them were calm, patient, and efficient. Will’s heart didn’t race anymore as it had during his FBI days, which was a welcome improvement. Hannibal knew what he was doing, as he had during the decades before he had even met Will. Will trusted him with every aspect of the lives they live. Their dynamic changed after Will had accepted his own nature, now he was Hannibal’s equal, rather than an ensnared animal caught in the predator’s trap. 

Hannibal shut the freezer, letting out a poof of cold air before it stilled again. He moved to the single light bulb illuminating the cellar and grabbed the chain attached, not yet pulling. He looked back at Will.

He nodded. 

The cellar went black.

There was a creak as the cellar doors were opened. The old air that had settled inside stirred as the cool air blew in. A flashlight shone down past the stairs and onto the freezer. The stairs were narrow, allowing them to hide along the wall next to them. Will on one side, Hannibal on the other. Will knew the person would be armed, most likely handling a gun. If they knew them as well as Will had figured they do, they probably know their way of killing is more so close range than anything. It’s more intimate that way.

But whoever entered their cellar was at a disadvantage. They had entered the snake’s nest. What happened next would be their own fault. They descended slowly, keeping the flashlight steady. The third step from the bottom creaked, something Will had noticed their first night in the house. As they reached the concrete floor, they shone the flashlight to their left, where Hannibal was leaning up against the wall. They sucked in a breath, ready to pull the trigger, when Will brought an empty wine bottle down on their head. The sound of glass breaking echoed through his mind, the tide rushing in again to nestle itself deep into his subconscious. The silence of the night had been broken once again. They grunted, trying to bend down and away from the offending blow. Hannibal was fast, he grabbed hold of their head and kneed them in the face. The strike sent their head flying back to Will, who let them fall to the ground. A broken nose for sure. Hannibal made his way back to the light and pulled the chain.

The person who had been hunting them was revealed to be a man with a short crew cut, a little stocky, and dressed like a tourist. There was also a small camera strapped to his back. Will dragged him over to the left side of the cellar and propped him up against the wall. Hannibal closed the cellar door and stood beside Will after he was finished. He handed him the gun.

Will took it and checked the magazine. It was full. Hannibal bent down to check the man’s pockets as Will slid the magazine back inside and tucked the gun into the waistband of his pants.

Hannibal let out an amused huff, a smug smile accompanying it. He turned to show Will what he had found. The man had an FBI identification badge in his wallet. 

Will hummed at the sight, “It seems we have been found out.”

“Indeed we have.” And by the tone of his voice, Will knew Hannibal was immeasurably pleased. He always enjoyed a bit of cat and mouse with the FBI.

They waited for the man to come back to consciousness, and when he eventually did, Hannibal and Will were able to gather enough information to have a basic idea of who this man was. Hannibal had his tablet held out in front of him, reading through the few articles that had shown up. It was mostly Hannibal digging into who this man was and relaying the information to Will to interpret. 

The man groaned. He tried to sniffle and Will watched as his face folded into pain. He tried to move his arms, and when he found he couldn’t, his eyes snapped open. Fear stretched across his face, adding to the pain evident in his eyes. He was no threat to Hanibal and Will, especially in this state. His arms were tied behind his back and there was nowhere for him to go. A helpless animal ensnared in the predator’s trap. 

“Joshua West. A fresh FBI agent right out of Quantico,” Will starts, pacing in front of the immobile man. Joshua’s eyes darted between Hannibal and Will with growing realization. “looking for his big break. Something that will make his superiors recognize him as someone who can get the job done.” he stops moving and shows Joshua his FBI card.

“Am I correct?”

Joshua steals his expression, his wide eyes sliding into anger. Will smiled at that. Did this man genuinely expect to capture or kill Hannibal Lecter and his accomplice? But the FBI thought they were dead. How was this man so sure of himself? Will shook his head and tossed the card into Joshua’s lap. He stepped back, trying to think like the man before him. 

“You came here alone.” Hannibal phrased it as a statement rather than a question, “What did you hope to achieve? Justice?” he glanced at Will before continuing, “A conversation with killers?”

Yes. He could see it. “Praise for finding them, praise for surviving them.” Will reasoned.

Hannibal crouched down to come face to face with Joshua, while still maintaining an intimidating presence. “Who was it that put this thought into your mind? A colleague? A friend?”

Joshua narrowed his eyes, keeping silent. “Or maybe it was poor, old Jack.” Hannibal raised, “I doubt you have had any interactions with him?”

He finally speaks up, “Jack Crawford retired years ago.” Joshua recounted, his eyebrows creasing slightly. “They said his heart couldn’t take it anymore.”

“A shame. Jack Crawford was a good man.” Hannibal stood, “Though I wouldn’t doubt the stress it took on his heart.”

Hannibal took his place besides Will, who had been watching the exchange with careful eyes. Hannibal was undeniably in love with Will’s mind, whatever he would do with it. In moments like this, it became glaringly obvious. 

“How did you find us?”

Joshua had the nerve to look mildly amused, “It wasn’t that hard, you know. There’s a pattern, if you know what to look for.” he nodded. “I just had to get close enough for it to be clear.”

This man was irritatingly arrogant. Will briefly wonders who could have given him so much confidence that he had the gall hunt them down and confront them. Perhaps he figured they would be clueless, oblivious to Joshua’s failed attempt at staying in the shadows. Or maybe it was all a facade, to try and suede the predators away from the prey. If they didn’t sense any fear, maybe they wouldn’t get any enjoyment. It was entirely the wrong move.

“The FBI declared you both as dead, they stopped looking for bodies a long time ago,” Joshua continued, “but some people didn’t believe it.”

That wasn’t something Will had doubted. He had read articles about them after their fall, albeit reluctantly. There were many Tattle Crime articles trying to milk every drop of whatever new sightings or stories reported. It made Freddie Lounds successful, and when they were gone she moved on after a long enough time. Occasionally, he sees their names pop up in an article but it isn’t enough to get a whole investigation started up again.

Joshua nodded to Will, “They said you wouldn’t hurt anyone you didn’t find guilty.” he shook his head, “righteous violence, or something.”

“Did Alana Bloom say that?” Will already knew the answer. He could read it on Joshua’s face once he got the question out. Alana used to represent something good and optimistic in a world of confusion and muddled memories. All she wanted was to be Will’s friend, protect him from harm. If only she had known that she was the one who led him right into the jaws of the devil.

It was Will’s turn to crouch down to Joshua’s level. He felt like Hannibal, looking at the world and the people in it as lesser beings. He would be lying if he said it didn’t feel good, “I do believe in righteous violence, Joshua,” He gets closer, Joshua tries to lean away, “but three years is a long time to think about your beliefs and twist them until they are nearly unrecognizable.” he stared into Joshua’s eyes now. He watched as Joshua connects what Will is implying. He watched as Joshua recoils as far as he can, trying to shake his arms loose. He watched as his head pressed against the cement wall as his eyes melted back to their glossy, fearful state. Will had always been good at watching. He was almost as good at pulling the trigger. 

Will stood up, ignoring Joshua’s helpless protests. He reached around and grabbed the gun, cocked it, and looked down the sight, finding Joshua’s forehead. 

“Wait-”

He pulled the trigger three times. The sounds wouldn’t matter, their neighbors were far enough away to hardly even hear anything. To them, it might have just been a bump in the night or a car driving by. It wouldn’t garner anything more than a passing thought. That’s all Joshua West really was, a small thing to be dealt with. The FBI would know where they are now, they had left their mark on this place. But that didn’t really matter. Hannibal and Will would always find a way out of the heat, out of the reach of the FBI. They survived up until now with no one but themselves as company. Hannibal even used to do this alone. All Will really needs is Hannibal, the one person who understands the dark recesses of his mind fully and completely.

Hannibal’s heated stare was evident even while his back was turned. Will lingered for a few seconds before lowering the gun and facing Hannibal. His face was fixed with satisfaction. Although Will’s Becoming was an event of the past, he would feel it’s effects for the rest of his life. When that look that held so much admiration and fulfilment and hunger once forced Will to look away, now he found himself leaning into it, embracing it. He relished in that gaze and all of the seemingly immoral feelings it dragged along. There was no morality when it came to Hannibal and Will. Their relationship surpassed all that is right and wrong and ascended to a higher plane, closer to the moonlight than the sun. Jack had never understood their bond. Neither did Alana, or Francis Dolarhyde. Or Molly for that matter, although to her credit, she never saw Hannibal in action. She never saw Hannibal with Will.

Hannibal stepped closer as he slid a hand around to the back of Will’s neck and gripped at the small curls there. Will leaned forward and pressed their foreheads together, letting himself relax in the embrace. He sighed and closed his eyes as he let the waves within his mind crash against his eyelids. The day had been tiring, grueling even. He doesn’t remember killing that many people in a long time. Will idly thought about how his life led him to this moment. He let his brain skim through the books and chapters of his past and once again only found one discernible distinction. Hannibal Lecter. 

He feels a puff of breath against his lips as the man in question speaks, “What’s on your mind, Will?”

He opened his eyes and met Hannibal’s again. They were searching and yet knowing. It always felt like Hannibal could somehow see part of his brain but not all the way through it. It had been scarily new at the time, all those years ago. But now, Will found comfort in it. He used to play the game all wrong. He tried to beat Hannibal Lecter at what he was best at. It was only when Will joined Hannibal in his conquest for finding beauty in the ugly did Will Graham truly feel like he would win. If only he had realized it sooner.

“The passage of time and failed opportunities.” He answered honestly. Secrets had only ever broken them further and taken people away. Now, they saw each other clearly without the need for masks. Their knowledge of each other was intimate. Jack would never understand why Will was so drawn to Hannibal and that was ultimately his downfall. 

Will closed his eyes as he leaned in, the press of familiar lips against his own felt as if it would recharge the energy he had lost. Hannibal’s mouth was steady against his own, reassuring and grounding. As Will leaned away, he felt Hannibal grip his curls one last time before taking the gun from Will’s hand. 

Will and Hannibal never actually planned on eating their three dinner guests, or four if you count the late arrival. It was a setup. A trap to lay for the person intruding on their life. They weren’t sure how long Joshua had been watching, but they assumed long enough to know their routine.

They arranged the bodies around the freezer. The lady with no eyes is first, propped against the freezer and gazing up the stairs to the cellar doors, bound to give her next visitor a fright. The woman with no ears came next, the bloody bundle of cartilage situated in her lap. Will had tried to fix her neck but it ended up flopping to one side or the other, so he left it as it was. The man with the broken jaw was third, mouth agape as if a terrible scream might rip from his throat and sound out through the night. He waited, but no scream came.

And then there was Joshua West, he who never really got to prove himself to the world. Now _he_ was a spectacle. A word of warning for anyone who tried to catch Will and Hannibal. The predators among prey. He got what he was after. A message. A conversation with killers. He would be the messenger of their news. Yes, they were alive, but do not try to stop them.

The camera Joshua had brought with him carried various pictures of Will and Hannibal around Greece. At the markets, fancy get togethers, dinner parties, even intimate moments. With their big windows looking out at the wide expanse of sea, it was almost as if they were asking for it. It was quite impertinent, Will found. Being watched by anyone other than Hannibal didn’t fail to unnerve him. It suited Joshua that he would now be a word to the wise. Anyone who respected their own wellbeing would not have tried to go after individuals known for their gruesome killings and even more gruesome tableaus.

Will hung the camera around Joshua’s neck, positioning him on top of the freezer. His head was a mess of bullet wounds and exposed brain and flesh, dripping onto his own clothes as well as the freezer below him. Will grabbed Joshua’s jaw with one hand and held his face with the other, opening his mouth with care not to get anymore blood on his hands. He slid Joshua’s badge inside, making it easy for whoever found him next to identify him. 

Will and Hannibal didn’t have much longer in Greece anyways, it had started to get boring, if he’s being honest. Maybe the Greecian high life didn’t suit him well. 

All the important moments were bathed in blood. And while Will couldn’t yet determine the gravity of this particular moment, he would tuck it away in his mind. He would save it for a rainy day, possibly a day when they won’t be able to hunt anymore. Maybe even the day they are caught for good.

For now he decided he will let the tide carry him where it wanted him to go. There was someone there who had already been washed away. Someone who became a part of the sea that made a home out of Will Graham’s mind.

Perhaps this was a new chapter. Will smiled at the thought.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed! I was listening to Standchen by Franz Schubert among other classical stuff so that's kind of the vibe. Also Requiem Mass in D Minor, K. 626: Lacrimosa dies illa by Mozart!!! AND A Clockwork Orange: Music for the Funeral of Queen Mary because I am a slut for that movie.
> 
> Twitter is @ber8thedelight if you want to talk about these assholes. I used to have Tumblr but I do not have the energy for that honestly.
> 
> If this gets good feedback then I might write some more Hannigram stuff, idk. I usually just write when I'm desperate for a specific idea lol. PLUS sometimes it just tires me out to such an extent that I don't enjoy it anymore and we don't want that :P


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